August
by Pepperashesnikki
Summary: I have 3 lists of 31; pairings, prompts and songs. Each day in August I will pick three random numbers and write a fic, drabble or whatever on that.    All characters in these are copyright to JK Rowling, lyrics used are copyright their record labels.
1. August 1st

**A/N: **Okay, so I'm writing these little ficlets, one shots and drabbles over the month, and I'm publishing them each day. Yes I realise this one is five days late, but I do have a life somewhere. C: All characters in these one shots are copyright to JK Rowling, and any song lyrics used are copyright to their respective bands, singers or record labels.

**August 1st**

**Pairing: **Harry/Luna

**Prompt: **Heirloom

**Song: **How to Save a Life – The Fray

"That's a lovely dress."

She looked across at him; he was obviously clamouring for some sort of small talk as they headed towards Slughorn's office for the party; wrackspurts were whizzing around his head like gnats, she could tell.

"It was my mother's." She replied, and couldn't help the faint smile as Harry immediately flushed a little, seemingly appalled by his touch upon a delicate subject.

"Oh," He said, just about managing to not stutter. "S-sorry Luna."

"It's quite alright." It was. She loved this dress, as it still somehow had the scent of her mother clinging to it, no matter how many times she wore it. The slightly acrid smell of burning from her spell experimentations, mingled oddly well with the soft, comforting smell of her perfume and natural scent.

After that their conversation grew rather awkward again, but she didn't pay it any heed. She didn't mind awkwardness, it just showed that they wanted to say something to each other. If he disliked her, this awkwardness would not exist, because he wouldn't have taken her, right? She hoped so.

They arrived in the room and Luna's attention was immediately captivated by the beauty of the decorations, from the little red fairies in their lamp right down to the house-elves acting as waiters and waitresses. She liked this sort of function, she decided there and then. Pieces of mistletoe, although most likely Nargle infested, drifted mischievously around the party-goers' heads, creating opportunities for Slug Club members and their guests to kiss, if they wanted.

"Would you like a drink?" Harry asked her, and she nodded; the room was hot and stuffy and she could do with a drink. She watched him move away to do just that, and as he pushed into the crowd until she could no longer see him, she returned her attention to the surrounding area, again marvelling at the decorations. Her eyes immediately clocked a piece of mistletoe bobbing her way, and she dithered for a moment over whether to avoid it. Nargles resided in the little sprigs, yes, but if Harry returned while it was still over her head...

She decided to risk the Nargles and stayed put, watching the white-berried sprig until it was hovering over her head, at which point she looked about for Harry. For a brief moment, she could see nothing through the crowd, but as it parted she could see the drinks table, with Harry still at it, and he was chatting animatedly to someone.

Ginny.

_Some sort of window to your right. _

She swallowed as she watched them laugh, Ginny flipping her hair just-so and Harry lapping it up; she could see it in his eyes. Her eyes moved upwards again – the mistletoe was leaving. Now, Luna Lovegood never felt any emotions that weren't calm or gentle amusement, but now she felt a slight twinge of desperation. Why couldn't he leave her alone for two minutes?

_As he goes left and you stay right._

Hope sprang up in her chest again as they finally parted, but one more glance to the space above her head told her that the mistletoe had already moved away, and seemed intent on getting the vampire guest a kiss.

_Between the lines of fear and blame. _

All she could do now was accept her drink, enjoy the rest of the party, and try not to get upset each time Harry's eyes wandered across the stiflingly crowded room and found her best friend. Which she could do, because after all, she had her mother with her, hugging and supporting her, through a silver dress with her scent still very much attached.

_You begin to wonder why you came._


	2. August 2nd

**August 2nd**

**Pairing: **Neville/Susan Bones

**Prompt: **Treetops

**Song: **Hero – Enrique Iglesias

When Susan was young, she was told that her grandparents lived in the sky, and were watching her always. While she had been too young to know them when they had died, she always carried a yearning with her, a yearning just to be close to them. This often lead her to the tops of the trees in the garden, the highest points she could gather, and reach out her hands as if her grandparents were going to reach down and grasp her hands, pull her up with them and hold her close in a blanket made of clouds.

In her sixth year, she was too old for such fantasies, she told herself, and yet she still found herself in the grounds, hands losing layers of skin on bark, and dirt and leaves nestling in her hair as she scaled one of the trees on the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest. She didn't stop to reconsider until she was as close to the top as she could get while the branches still supported her. She sat on the branch and looked up; more branches and leaves. She couldn't see her aunt from here. One more branch.

The next branch up was thinner, but stuck out a little, so when she sat on it there was nothing above her but pure, unbroken. She gently moved her hand from the trunk of the tree, so she was sat without support. She wasn't young or daring enough to outstretch her hands to the sky any more, but she did raise one hand to face-height, eyes still on the cloudless sky, shining and red-rimmed as she felt that yearning again, only so much stronger, for her aunt.

"Susan?"

The voice calling her name made her jump so much that she left the branch, and when she landed on it again, her balance was off, and she slipped backwards. She braced herself for impact, for pain, but when she suddenly stopped in midair, she realised it wasn't going to come. She opened her eyes, which she hadn't realised had been closed, as she slowly drifted to the lawn. Flushed with embarrassment, she scrambled up, expecting a teacher, but finding Neville Longbottom stood in front of her, pocketing his wand sheepishly.

"Sorry," He said, somehow finding a way to be apologetic when he'd just saved her from probably a lot of pain. "I didn't mean for you to fall..."

"It's okay." She said quickly, brushing muck off her skirt and out of her hair.

A heavily awkward silence fell then, before Neville burst out with; "Are you alright?"

Of course, the whole school knew about her Aunt. It'd been in the Prophet; she'd been bullied. Was she okay? Truthfully no. She was lost and absolutely terrified of losing more of her family. She wanted to curl up and hide, bring her family with her of course, and hope this all passed over without any more tragedies. But of course, this was war. No war had no tragedies.

She wanted to nod, to say she was fine and have done with it. But tears were falling properly now, and as Neville stood there looking awkward to the point of horror, she let out a small sob. She pulled her robe sleeves down over her hands and buried her face in them, blotting out the world that didn't have her Aunt in it any more.

She only looked up when she felt an arm around her shoulders. It was too light and felt awkward, but it was an arm nonetheless, and as her face lifted from her hands she realised it was Neville who was attempting to comfort her. His round face was flushed, as was hers (from crying of course), but his arm around her shoulders somehow helped her shoulder the grief she was suffocating under.

"I know how you feel." He said softly as she hiccuped and tried to stop herself making such a scene. Briefly, she wondered how he possibly could, but he went on. "My parents were in the Order too. The Death Eaters thought they had information, so Bellatrix Lestrange found them. She tortured them until they went mad."

For a few seconds she was stunned. She hadn't known that about Neville, but then it explained why she always saw and older woman greeting him at the train platform; it had to be his grandmother.

"I...I'm sorry." I mumbled, and he shrugged.

"It isn't your fault." He said, and looked up at the tree she had been in. He seemed to want to change the subject now, because he asked, "What were you doing up there?"

She hesitated for a moment, then realised that he had opened a big part of himself to her; it was only fair that she reciprocated. So she explained about her grandparents, and the treetops she used to frequent, growing steadily more embarrassed at how foolish and childish it sounded outside of her own head.

Neville didn't shoot her a snide remark however, but looked at her with nothing but sympathy in his eyes. She knew it was the same look she'd had when she had been regarding him not two minutes previously. It hit her then; they were in very much the same boat. Their families were prime targets for the Death Eaters. It was people like her and him that had to stick together, to fight. Because if they didn't fight, the deaths and tragedies that they had experienced would be in vain.


	3. August 3rd

**August 3rd**

**Pairing: **Ernie/Hannah

**Prompt: **Fun with Food

**Song: **Greatest Day – Take That

Ernie blinked as something struck his cheek. He glanced down, watching as a pea rolled down the slide of his plate and knocked against his last sausage. He hated peas. Why was there a pea on his plate? He looked up and around at his fellow Hufflepuffs, looking for anyone looking his way or feigning innocence. Hannah was the first eye he caught, her being sat opposite, and the moment their eyes met she dissolved in to giggles.

"The look on your face was priceless!" She said through her mirth, and even Ernie couldn't help a smile twitching his lips. But he forced it away again as she composed herself, his eyes going back to his plate.

"...Ernie?"

He didn't answer, merely scooped some mashed potato onto his fork and regarding it.

"Ernie it was only a j-"

She didn't get to finish her statement, because Ernie had held the fork up and flicked it at her, sending potato flying towards her.

Needless to say, her face was priceless.


	4. August 4th

**August 4th**

**Pairing: **Seamus/Dean

**Prompt: **Rage

**Song: **Low – Kelly Clarkson

Seamus was feeling very good about today. So far he hadn't gotten any homework in his lessons, none even from Umbridge, and now he was on an after-lunch free period. He knew Dean had the same; nine times out of ten they spent any matching free time with each other, either practising Quidditch or attempting to do their homework while throwing scrunched up bits of parchment at each other. His comrade, however, hadn't been at lunch, nor was he in the common room when Seamus walked through the portrait hole. He hoped he wasn't ill.

Assuming Dean would be in the dormitory, he took the spiral stairs two at a time, humming the Irish Quidditch team's anthem under his breath as he did so. He didn't even hesitate as he walked through the door marked 'Fifth Years'; he wasn't really one to show tact, especially in what was technically his bedroom too. If he had known then what he had been about to walk in on, he probably wouldn't have even bothered looking for Dean.

Dean was there all right, and so was Ron's little sister Ginny, making out right there on Dean's bed. Seamus saw Ginny's eyes widen and she flailed a bit, pushing Dean off until he realised that someone was there, at which he scramble up to stand beside his bed, clothes rumpled and looking somewhat ashamed.

A heavy silence fell, none of them wanting to break it; Seamus in the door way, Ginny still half sprawled on the four-poster bed and Dean stood there, looking the epitome of awkward. But it was Dean that broke the silence.

"Seamus-"

Seamus barely gave him the time to finish saying his name. He turned quickly and slammed the door behind him, feet moving fast and mostly of their own accord as he hurried away from the scene, wanting to get as far away as possible. If he had been thinking rationally, he would've blamed Ginny. But it was the thought of Dean that made his heart twist and his stomach lurch. Dean fucking Thomas. Supposedly his best friend; the half of him that made him whole.

"Seamus!"

Fantastic, Dean was following him. Seamus picked up the pace to a run, almost knocking over a first year with a stack of books in his desperation to leave the common room area. He wanted to be alone, he needed to vent. Everyone fell silent as he stormed through; they could read the expression on his face and hear Dean behind him. He ignored them, slamming through the portrait of the Fat Lady so hard that she swung back on her hinges and the portrait side hit the wall, with an indignant "Ow!" from said portrait.

"Seamus please!"

_Oh fuck off Dean! _Seamus' mind shouted the words he wanted to say to the other boy, but he honestly was too angry to form the thoughts into words. He knew he wouldn't be able to out-pace Dean, as the other boy was much more sporty. He played football, for Merlin's sake. Suddenly images of them, in third year, both sat cross legged on Dean's bed flashed in to his mind. Dean explaining to him the technicalities of football, the rules, the players positions and their jobs, all of it said with such an excited glee that Seamus hadn't had the heart to say that he knew how football worked.

His heart throbbed painfully and he almost stopped, but swallowed the feeling and carried on walking. What did stop him was Dean grabbing his upper arm and forcing him to turn.

"Seamus just _stop, _alright!" Dean's voice was strained with panic; he obviously hadn't intended in the slightest for things to go this way. Well bully for him.

Seamus wrenched his arm out of Dean's grip, but didn't run away. He glared at the taller boy, fists clenched to the point of his nails digging in to his palms. "What, Dean?"

Dean seemed to detect just how angry he was, because he swallowed and said "Just...just calm down. I can explain."

"There's nothing to explain!" Seamus was shouting already; he'd never had a good control on his temper. "You went behind my back and were damn near shagging Weasley on your bed!"

Dean's attitude seemed to tip from repentant to indignant very swiftly.

"'Behind your back'!" He shouted right back, waking a slumbering old wizard in the portrait near their heads. "There's no 'behind your back' about it!"

"_Wha-_ Of course there is!" Their argument had reached full volume now, and as Seamus retaliated, the old wizard fled his painting to take shelter with some hags in the frame down the corridor. "We were together, Dean!"

Dean gaped. "Yeah, were! Past tense! We aren't together now! That time's gone Seamus, I'm sorry but that's the truth!"

Seamus shook, his anger almost making his head hurt. "There's still feelings there and you know it!"

At this point, Dean seemed to reign in his temper a little, because when he spoke, his voice was almost patronisingly soft. "Seamus..."

"DON'T PITY ME!" Seamus roared, his temper reaching such a pitch that the painting down the corridor that the wizard had sought refuge in cracked in half and fell from the wall. "WE STOPPED DATING A MONTH AGO AND YOU THINK THERE'S NOTHING THERE ANYMORE?"

"Why the fuck do you think we broke up!" Dean shouted back, though his volume was no where near Seamus'. "You're my best friend. We tried to make it work, and it didn't. Merlin Seamus, I tried to make it work, but it _didn't_. I never loved y-"

Seamus would come to regret what he did next. He couldn't deny that when he got angry, he was a violent person, but he'd never ever laid a finger on his friends. But Dean's words, this whole argument, this whole situation was driving Seamus above and beyond the wall and something in him snapped, and before he could stop himself his fist was flying at Dean's face and hit it's mark, square and true, in the middle of Dean's face.

Dean's head snapped back and he stumbled backwards to accommodate the momentum of the blow, shouting in pain and surprise and putting a hand to his nose.

"What the _fuck _Seamus!" Dean exclaimed, a mixture of anger and surprise, his voice stuffy and thick as blood trailed from under his hand over his mouth.

Seamus didn't move, or speak. He'd stunned himself with his action; the only people he'd ever laid a harmful finger on were those he thought deserved it, and not once had his friends become that. But the way Dean was looking at him now, eyes shot through with pain, as if he, Seamus, was a lunatic, hurt more than what he'd seen in the dorm.

Dean seemed to pick up on that Seamus wasn't going to shout any more, or answer him, and without another word the taller boy turned and stalked back down the corridor, taking his hand away from his nose in time for Seamus to see that it was particularly flat, and a little crooked.

The silence in Dean's wake was almost as deafening as their argument had been, if not more so. Seamus' ears were ringing with it, his temper gone in that one simple motion that'd broken Dean's nose. He gritted his teeth and leant back against the wall, sliding down it until he was sat. He'd punched Dean. He'd shouted at Dean. Dean didn't, doesn't, and probably never would love him. Why'd he have to go and make a mess like that?


End file.
